On Names and Taxonomies
by Anne Maria
Summary: During a fight, Mara Jade experiences something completely new and strange to her. Will she face the consequences of her reaction, or will she keep running away from them forever?


**Timeframe:** ten years after the Thrawn Trilogy, fifteen years after ROTJ.  
**Characters:** Mara Jade, Luke Skywalker.  
**Genre:** Introspection, AU, some romance.  
**Summary:** During a fight, Mara Jade experiences something completely new and strange to her. Will she face the consequences of her reaction, or will she keep running away from them forever?  
**Disclaimer:** No profit is being made from this, since none of these characters belongs to me, they're George Lucas and Timothy Zahn's property (God bless them).  
Thanks to **GrandAdmiralV** for doing such a great job beta'ing this.  
**AN2**: Read and review, please. I love feedback as much as birthday presents ;).

She ducked, fast -- so fast an untrained eye would have seen but a blur of red and blue. She parried away a blaster bolt, and, with a swift movement of her weapon, she disposed of the last opponent. Panting slightly and completely drenched in sweat, Mara Jade stood up straight and extinguished the electric-blue blade of her lightsaber.

"'Bout time for a holiday," she murmured to herself, blowing the hair that had fallen on her face. Her red-gold mane had suffered the consequences of the intensity and length of the battle, and now it was a complete mess, strands of it lying in all sorts of strange positions.

Taking a deep breath to slow down her heartbeat, Mara reached out for Luke through the Force. The answer came so rapidly and was so vivid it almost knocked her down. Struggling to keep her internal balance, she sensed he was OK, and was slightly annoyed to notice he wasn't even a bit tired. She'd have to work harder on her training in order not to be left behind.

"Pride is very un-Jedi-like, Mara," Luke teased.

"Butt out of my head, Skywalker. This meld is solely for the purpose of increasing our fighting efficiency; don't abuse it. And don't push your luck, farmboy. Haven't you risked your life enough times today?" She could almost see him smiling behind her.

She turned, ready to get out of there, have a shower, and get a very good night's sleep. And in the very second she was about to start walking towards the exit, she saw something that took her breath away and left her strangely empty, filled with nothing but a void that seemed to grow bigger and bigger every moment, non-stop, threatening to swallow her whole. Time seemed to freeze, and immediately (though to her it felt like ages) it started moving again, so fast it made her dizzy.

Skywalker's lightsaber hummed as the blade extended and deflected the shot aimed at him back to his attacker. Then followed the distinctive _snap-hiss_ that indicated his saber was off and the fighting over.

And just as swiftly as it had started, it ended.

Mara gave a deep sigh, releasing the incredible amount of tension she'd been holding. Clipping his weapon to his belt, Luke flashed her a dazzling grin, and of their own accord her lips curved into an answering smile.

"Thanks for worrying, Mara," he said aloud.

In the blink of an eye, the smile vanished from Mara's lips, like a cloud blown by a strong wind, and, jaw clenched, she stormed past Luke, the embodiment of fury, mad at herself for her ridiculous reaction once she took in what had just happened there.

However, in a corner of her mind, a very recondite one nonetheless, that vexing and insistent little voice she sometimes heard was telling her that, in reality, what had taken hold of her was not anger, but rather shock and fear, because she was well acquainted with impulses, and therefore she knew there was something very dangerous about the nature of instinct, because it's in instinctive reactions that all we keep under control, buried deep inside ourselves in our conscious moment, comes into the open, rebelling against our denial.

But the very idea that there was anything concerning Skywalker she had to deny to herself was outrageous -- hilarious, even. In any case, that was a topic she definitely didn't want to dwell upon. Not there, not then, not ever.

"Don't you thank me," she spat out, her back still turned on him. And, clenching her fists to avoid hitting something, she left the building towards the spot where they'd landed the _Fire_, leaving a perplexed Skywalker behind.

Luke shook his head, mystified. After ten years of dealing with the redhead, he knew better than to mess with her when she was in such tempestuous moods. So, breathing deeply, he followed her out of the place, mustering as much of his Jedi Master patience as he could for the trip ahead.

It had all started as a simple, stupid mission Leia had entrusted them with. Just by looking at it, one could see that nothing could go wrong: Skywalker and her were supposed to track down these folks who were suspected of selling Republic information and find out who was their leader, why they were doing it, and, most important of all, _how_ they got the information.

At first it had appeared to be the common tracking mission it was supposed to be. Mara had done enough of those during her life that she wasn't worried by them, just sufficiently efficient that she didn't need to regret anything later on. But, of course, simplicity hadn't lasted. _As was __to be expected__, since Skywalker was involved_, she reflected, annoyed, as she fumbled for a blanket inside one of the _Fire_'s storage compartments. Somehow -- _most understandable, coming from a group of men who steal __information_ -- the spies had known they were coming, and what began as simple errand had ended up in a tough confrontation in a rundown warehouse against twenty well-armed opponents, during which she had had more than one chance to do what Skywalker kept constantly telling her to do: practise her Force skills. And then, of course, there'd been her most insane response to the possibility of Luke -- _Skywalker--_ getting hurt.

"Really stupid of me to think the know-all, wise-beyond-belief Jedi Master could have been hurt by a mere mortal," she scolded herself on the way to the ship's cabin.

When she got there, though, she halted abruptly at the doorstep and stared silently at the sight in front of her. Luke had laid himself down on the longest seat the _Fire_ offered, and had fallen fast asleep. Apparently, even the mighty Jedi Master was tired by such petty things as battles. When she finally regained control of her body, Mara walked up to the bench and covered him with the blanket she'd brought. She'd get another one for herself later.

As she watched him lie there, so peaceful, so different from the side of him she usually saw, unexpected and unwanted feelings flooded her. Out of the blue tears welled up in her jade-green eyes, and that terrifying sensation she'd first experienced at the warehouse assaulted her again. Distressed, she dropped into the seat in front of Skywalker's and hugged her knees to her chest.

What on Kessel was going on with her? Why did the idea of losing Skywalker affect her so? And what, in the name of all Sithlords, was that supposed to mean? Typically, she would have coldly and carefully evaluated the situation until she understood with absolute clarity what had happened. But this time, rational thinking about the topic was something she was not at all willing to do. Rational thinking could lead her to the truth, to the answer to all the questions she'd been asking herself, and that, if only that, was something she was positively sure she didn't want. Certainty was not one of her most frequent feelings lately, and once it passed by she clung to it with all her strength.

And yet, her mind refused to quieten down and let her rest. All she could do was relive over and over again the very moment she wanted to forget. It was as if the truth, having seen the light once, wanted to come to the surface at all costs, and stay there forever. But that was just what she didn't want! She didn't want any truths, any changes made to her perfectly neat life. She had her job, her beloved _Fire_, and she needed nothing else. Maybe visiting Skywalker every now and then, in his Academy or on Coruscant when he was there, but that was all. She wanted no changes. She refused to accept any sort of alteration to a flawlessly working system.

Nevertheless, impotence, fear, anger, frustration, denial, and that nameless feeling for which she really didn't want to find a name, all broke loose inside her, swirling like a wild tornado that attempted to destroy her impeccably ordered world. She tried hard not to, but she couldn't stop it anymore, she couldn't hold her tears back any longer, so she let go of her self-control and began to weep, silently, secretly, just like everything else she'd done in her life.

After all, she was used to it; she had been trained to do it, to hide her feelings, because displaying them in public, where others could see you, only made you vulnerable, weak, worthless. Her Master had made sure she learned those lessons by heart, and not even now, fifteen years after his death, had she been able to forget them, to get past those teachings her old self had considered so mighty and admirable.

She checked her shields and verified they were fully up. Not that she had expected anything else. She was used to keeping them like that in the most hair-raising situations; it had been part of her job for most of her life, and her greatest skill after her ability to hear her Master from the opposite end of the galaxy. And yet, she had never been in such a state as now. She had never felt so fragile and so alone and so confused.

She heard Skywalker stir in his couch and cursed silently. How in the name of seven Corellian hells had he…? She chastised herself for not being even more careful in shielding herself. In fact, she should never have had the need to shield -- this was something that shouldn't have been happening. It couldn't be happening.

It _was_ happening, nevertheless.

She quickly wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and sat up straight, getting out of her fetal position, which spoke volumes about her vulnerability. Luke's eyelashes fluttered as he fought against his own tiredness to open his eyes. "Mara?" he asked, sounding worried.

"It's OK, farmboy, I'm here, and I'm all right. I'm sorry I woke you up."

He sat up, looking intently at her, noticing the blanket but saying nothing about it.

"You've been crying," he stated.

Suddenly, Mara's softness disappeared. "Mind you own business, Jedi," she snapped. "What I do in my resting time does not concern you."

"You're sad, and you're my friend. I think it _does_ concern me, Mara."

She looked away, unnerved by his stare.

"What's up?" he inquired again, but his question met with an obstinate silence. "Does this have anything to do with what happened at the warehouse?"

Still silence.

"Look, Mara, I know something happened there. I felt it. Now, if you'd please tell me, you'd make this a lot easier for both of us. 'Cause I'm not letting you out of this ship until you talk."

Now she did answer. "Who do you think you are, to order me around?" she snarled. "This is _my_ ship! _Mine_, Skywalker, do you understand? I get out of it whenever I want to!"

"We're in this mission together, Mara. If anything like this happens again, you could endanger both of us. Worse, you could endanger anyone we were in charge of protecting." But he had misjudged the effect of his words.

"So that's all you care about, your precious mission?" she bellowed. "Well, in that case there's no need for you to worry! I know perfectly well how to keep my work and my personal affairs apart!" And with that, she stood up so brusquely she sent the mug Luke had left on the table flying to the floor.

"No, Mara, that's not what I meant…"

But again, she had already stormed out of the place. This time, though, he decided not to let her go and chased after her. It was time she let him do some explaining; she couldn't keep slamming doors in his face whenever she felt like it.

When he got to the door to her cabin he found it closed, so he called to her from outside.

"Mara. Mara, open, please. We need to talk."

To his surprise, the door hissed open, and a very angry Mara Jade appeared in front of him.

"Speak. You've got three minutes."

"C'mon, Mara, don't be childish."

"Speak or leave, Skywalker."

"All right, all right," he sighed, and tried to order his thoughts as best he could. He knew that in dealing with Mara the smallest mistake due to the slightest lack of attention could mean a very rough ending for a conversation, and he didn't want a repeat of the lounge scene.

"Look, Mara. I…I just wanted to say thank you, and that caring about other people is not bad."

Having the uncomfortable sensation she'd overreacted, and feeling somewhat ashamed for her previous rudeness, Mara tried to apologise: "Luke…"

But he didn't allow her to continue.

"No, let me finish," he requested, and she fell silent. "Really, Mara, I'm honoured you care for me." He paused so as to make himself as clear as possible. "'Cause I care just as much about you. If anything ever happened to you, I…I don't know what I'd do."

Mara's eyes shot to his face, and she swallowed hard. All her pent-up emotions chose that precise moment to break past the barriers she had worked so hard to erect inside herself in order to keep them caged, to prevent exactly this kind of situation from happening.

"Luke, I…." she stammered, trying hard to speak, but recognising she couldn't even begin to think the words, much less say them out loud. More than twenty years of training to be the perfect assassin, the perfect secret, cold and unfeeling, had prepared her to know more than a hundred ways of killing a person without being heard or seen, but they hadn't prepared her for this. Unused to allowing herself to experience anything other than respect and gratitude towards her Master, these feelings were too new to her, too strange, too sudden, although they'd been growing inside her for years, unbeknown to her.

And what could she say, if she hadn't been able to answer herself in the first place? What was this pain she felt inside her chest whenever she thought Luke could be in danger? And what would _she_ do if something ever happened to _him_? And now, to top it all off, what, for stars' sake, did he mean by what he had said? Why didn't he know what he'd do if something bad befell her? Damn the man. Couldn't anything with Skywalker ever be simple, easy, and straightforward?

Inhaling deeply, Mara forced herself to go back to the warehouse. In all her years in Palpatine's service, and afterwards, working for Karrde or on any of the missions she'd undertaken, she'd never even once feared for her life. She had always been ready to give it up for the sake of a greater cause; and though her judgment as to which cause was a great cause had changed with the years, her resolution hadn't. And yet, in that awful place she'd feared for someone's life. Not hers, but Skywalker's. She'd feared he would be hurt, or worse. She'd feared because she didn't know -- she didn't even want to begin to imagine it -- what she would do if he ever was missing from her life.

There it was. She had finally admitted it. She'd got so used to Skywalker being a constant part of her life that she didn't know what it would be like if he wasn't there.

All of a sudden the importance of their friendship became all too clear for Mara. How ironic, she thought, that she was willing to accept it only because she feared she may lose it.

Surreptitiously, still afraid, she compelled herself to look him in the eye. An intense pang of shame coursed through her when she acknowledged the feelings she saw there. It made her feel insignificant and unworthy, for what she'd seen in those ocean-deep, sky-blue eyes was all she herself didn't dare to feel. Luke was gazing at her with his eyes full of understanding, acceptance, and…was there something else?

For the shortest moment her whole self warmed. But then the truth became blindingly evident to her, and she became infinitely annoyed with herself, both for not knowing and for expecting something else. Skywalker would always understand and accept, for such was his nature. _How stupid of me_, she berated herself, _the __man__ welcomed and forgave Darth Vader, the very incarnation of evil, and I thought he wasn't going to accept me and forgive my past__And why shouldn't he forgive me? What am I but another one of his charity projects, a tortured soul he set out to rescue from the Dark Side in his deranged crusade to change the universe._

When she arrived at that conclusion, her eyes flared in anger, her spirit burning with hurt. She glared at him, all her nerves on edge, ready to attack.

Skywalker didn't waver. He just stood there, looking at her with that irritating calm of his. That should have infuriated her more, but, astonishingly, it wasn't so. In fact, just the opposite occurred. His serenity seemed contagious, and she felt herself relax in response. This only left her feeling more vulnerable, more exposed, without the reassuring protection of her fire. She still had her Force-shields, but she had the unnerving impression Skywalker didn't need the Force to know what was going on inside her. He wasn't reading her Force-signature, which, g given her current state, would have been readable to any Force-sensitive in miles. No, this was different -- it was as if he were staring right through her, reading her soul. She shuddered at the idea.

And then, Luke did a most bold thing -- bold yet stupid, considering the risk he was taking. He crossed the distance that separated them, and embraced her, placing her inside a warm and protecting shelter such as she'd never known.

It felt odd to be there, Mara reflected. She tried to pinpoint the sensation…yes, it felt…familiar, like she belonged in his arms. _Like home must feel_, she mused, and was shaken by her own contemplations.

"Luke, listen, I…." she tried again.

"Sh," he murmured, gently brushing his hand through her hair, caressing the soft skin of her face.

She struggled, physically against him and emotionally against herself, but even Mara Jade, ex-Emperor's Hand, the coldest and most competent murderess in the galaxy, had her weaknesses.

"Not weaknesses, Mara," Luke whispered in her ear, his voice both chastising and tender. "It's time you stopped thinking about feelings as synonyms of weakness and failure."

"Get out of my head, Skywalker. And don't you start thinking you have any right to behave like you were my Master," she mumbled against his shoulder. But her rebuke was so feeble he just smiled.

"I don't intend to become your 'Master' that way, Mara. I'm not your owner."

"You'd better not try to, farmboy. No one will ever again control me."

As if he had been personally wounded by her words, Luke's countenance grew serious.

"Mara, love and possession are two wholly different things," he said.

At that, Mara jumped in his arms. Love? Who had said anything about love? Where had that come from?

"What the hell do you mean by 'love', Skywalker?," she demanded, this time breaking out of his embrace. "So?" Hands on her hips, her eyes sparkled menacingly.

Luke replayed some of Yoda's first words in his mind. _I cannot teach him. The boy has no patience_, the old Jedi Master had once said to Obi-Wan about him. _Well, Master, _he thought,_ I guess you must be pleased with my behaviour today._

"I love you, Mara," he declared, as simply as that.

Mara did a double-take and held her breath. For what must have been the first time in her life, she didn't know what to say. No witty retort came to her mind, though all she wanted was to come up with one, spit it at Skywalker with as much malice as she could, and leave him standing there feeling like an idiot, so she could flee to the safety of her cabin, out of which she should never had come. He would pay for trying to laugh in her face.

But, was that really what she wanted? _Yes_…_no_. As much as it upset her, she had to face it. She didn't want to hurt the only person who had offered her his friendship, and go back to the coldness of her life prior to meeting him. She had felt unexpectedly safe and comfortable in his arms, and the warmth that had spread all over her had had nothing to do with the _Fire_'s malfunctioning heating.

But she _couldn't_ be in love with him. She had never loved anyone. No one had ever loved her. It was an emotion alien to her, and she wasn't even sure she could really experience it. And how -- _how_ -- could he be so certain about his feelings for her when she was plagued with doubts and insecurities?

"How can you be so damn sure about everything?" she exclaimed.

Luke chuckled. "I let the Force guide me," he joked.

Mara snorted.

"Actually, Mara, I'm never sure I'm doing the right thing. I just do what I think best the best way I can. And trust me, that's a real burden when everyone assumes you have a bag of tricks that provides you with solutions to everything." He paused for a second before continuing. "But this time, for once, I'm totally convinced about what I'm doing. You are the person I willingly choose."

Mara felt her heart race. Her cheeks, which had been so pale less than five minutes ago, now turned a violent crimson. What was she supposed to do, to think, to feel? Did he expect her to throw herself into his arms and shout to the winds that she loved him? _Did_ she love him? How was she to know? How did one even know when one was in love? Once, on the occasion of the Solo twins' lifeday, she had purchased a fairy-tale holonovel for Jaina, and, out of curiosity, she'd read it before giving it to her. Never before in her life had she seen anything so preposterous. It portrayed female characters (generally princesses, who were not in the least like Leia) falling in love at first sight, getting goosebumps and butterflies in their bellies when they saw those incredibly brave knights who came to steal their hearts, knowing unquestionably that they had found true love and welcoming it into their lives without a single fear, being always ready to swear eternal devotion and faithfulness to their champions. Well, whoever had written that holonovel had no idea what real life was like. She'd thrown it away and bought the girl an X-wing toy instead, thinking she'd find much more use in that.

"Luke, I…" Those seemed to be the only two words she could articulate that day. "I…I don't know. Today, in the storehouse, when you…I…I was afraid. I was afraid that man would kill you, and I realised I didn't want to lose you. You're…we're friends, Luke. That I know. But how can you know? How can you be so confident you…love me? How can you tell what you're feeling is love and not just a strong friendship?"

Luke shook his head. "I just know, Mara. I don't mean I've known since the very instant I saw you, not even for a long time. But somehow, somewhere during these ten years something changed between us, even if we didn't realise it. Or maybe it's always been there, and we just didn't know it. Maybe we weren't ready to see it, or to face it -- I don't know. What I do know is that you have come to be essential to me, Mara. I want you in my life. And I want to be in yours." Silence lingered between them for a few moments, and then Luke continued, "I'm not going to say I'm not afraid, because it wouldn't be honest. But I think we've used that excuse long enough, don't you? I don't want to be held back by my fears any longer."

Mara's eyes fixed on his for a very long time. She pondered all that had transpired that day, all Luke had said, all that had happened between them since that fateful time on Myrkr when they'd saved each other's lives. And, looking back, she saw that, not wholly unexpectedly, Luke was in every one of her fondest memories.

In honour of the truth, she had to admit that his presence in her life had greatly contributed to making it brighter, less gloomy, less negative. He had always been there for her whenever she'd needed him, no matter how abrasive she'd been to him. Not only that, but he had also relied upon her more than once, and trusted her with his very life. And now, as if that weren't enough, he was offering even more: he was offering her his heart, his soul.

She bit her bottom lip, drained after so much mental and emotional effort. At this point, she couldn't really give a name to the revolution that had settled in her soul, seemingly with no plans to leave or lessen. But what Luke had said was undeniably true: She couldn't imagine her world without him, and she, too, wanted him in her universe, and to become part of his, even to a greater degree than they already were.

Making up her mind with her characteristic determination -- and deciding to act before she had more time to think about what she was going to do and regret it -- Mara moved one hand to cup Luke's face and pulled him to her with the other.

Apparently caught by surprise, Luke laughed as he took her in his arms, and his laughter was filled with the purest joy. Then he met her lips in a kiss that sent Mara on a new rollercoaster of emotions: It was at once both innocent and passionate, fierce and tender, demanding and yielding. Mara's arms snaked around his waist, pressing him even closer, as if she'd been trying to physically fulfil their wish to become part of each other. Luke responded without objection, intensifying his caresses in return.

_Names_, Mara thought, _who cares about them?_ All that mattered was that they were together, and that they both wanted this -- whatever _this_ was. And as for the proper label for that bothersome feeling she'd so recently been introduced to, she had the sensation there'd be plenty of time to figure it out.


End file.
